The Rising Tide
by S.Sourire
Summary: Addison wanders the woods on her own, fending for herself. It'd been eleven months without her family and it was normal to her. Running from walkers was a daily task. But when she comes across humans, it's a different fear that overcomes her. A different means of survival takes over. She runs until her body gives out, later waking in a prison cell.
1. Chapter 1: Intruder

**Note: I've had this story in queue for quite a while reluctant to put it up. I figure, what's the absolute worst that could come out of posting this? Let's just say I made a lengthy list, but alas, here it is. This is my first fanfiction that I have written in years so your patience regarding my writing (in its entirety) is much obliged. I happily except constructive criticism. As you'll see here, the main character I focus on, Addison, is made up by me. The main characters of The Walking Dead will come into play as well as the story line, to some degree, meaning I'm somewhat following my own timeline. Feel free to ask me any questions, they give me excitement and some kind of validation haha. Enjoy.**

The sky is so beautiful. Whether it's the prettiest baby blue or the deepest, it's untouched and perfect. It's nothing like down here on earth. So far from the ugly that surrounds me. Life is so vastly different from just eleven months ago. Surrounded by people that aren't even people. A diseased society; any sort of humanity is far gone and becomes fewer in existence as each day goes by. With my protector at my side, I stare longingly up to the night sky. The sparkling stars and bright, full moon. The roof of my jeep has been a place of comfort for me, given I was hidden away enough to not be seen by anyone, human or not. No one can be trusted anymore. After a two day drive I found a meadow with tall grass, tall enough to burrow me away from any outsiders. It was my only time of the day that I could really be left alone with just me and my thoughts. Although there wasn't much else for me to do. I both loved it and despised it. I could think freely but thoughts lead to memories. I don't want to remember those. Good or bad, they all remind me of the reality I now live, I'm alone.

If Addie from eleven months ago saw me now, I'd call me crazy. Knotted hair and a face that hasn't been properly washed in months. No more of the "latest fashion" but a wardrobe I've collected over time from abandoned duffel bags. Only a few feet away from their deceased owner. A rifle always at my side and a plethora of gun paraphernalia in the back of the jeep. I don't think I'd even recognize myself. It doesn't matter anyway. I don't have to worry about any of that. It's me now. It's how it has to be from here on out. Just me.

Rustling in the near distance breaks me from my thoughts. I stay in my position, moving my rifle closer to me.

Twigs break and the footsteps, though light, come closer stopping every few steps. I try to calm my breathing listening for any whispers or the rasp breathing of a walker. No sound. I take a chance, swinging myself as quietly as possible off the hood of my car, stepping softly onto the ground below me. The noise starts up again. I reach for my back pocket, grabbing dad's army knife, getting it ready in hand. I step closer to where the twigs break. With a deep breath I raise my armed hand making one step closer to the thing that invades my space and just as I'm ready to plunge the knife into my intruder I stop. The deer rounds' the corner of my jeep, sees me then darts far off into the tall grass. I watch the top of the grass until the deer is gone. I drop my hand and let out my strained breath. I rub my tired eyes and decide it's time for bed. I lock myself inside the jeep before climbing to the back. My rifle always stays close at my side, almost like a teddy. Ammunition and the rest of my armor stays hidden in the corner along with other food and supplies. I lay my head on a rolled up jacket that was mom's and cover myself under dad's blanket. The same blanket he took on every camping trip. After a filling dinner and talks by the bonfire he'd tuck my little sister and I under it.

Whether it was only in my mind or not, the familiar scent still lingered. The smell of firewood and dad's old spice. Dad would kiss both of us following with the words, "to the moon and back," and leave the tent. Hartley, Hart for short, and I would listen to mom and dad talk by the fire. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep though. I'd look over, pull the blanket up to her chin before falling asleep myself. We did these camping trips every year, we had it planned after my arrival home from college. My first year away from my family and my home in the suburbs of Cynthiana, Kentucky. I came home to just the beginning of what now has taken over this state. Surely what is taking over other states. It's been eleven months since this outbreak, ten without Hart, and eight without dad. Mom, well, I'm not really sure. We got separated in a chaos of the diseased five months ago. She never had forest smarts, nor did I, but I had enough to get by. Not mom. She was helpless. I only hope she's dead. But not dead like the kind I see walking around, hungering for human flesh. Just dead. Not breathing in any form. Call me callous, but it's true. I can handle being alone for the most part but mom...She wasn't made to be on her own.

I blink, feeling the warmth of tears slip down my cheeks. I force my eyes closed, praying for sleep to come over me. Soon my troubled mind is ruled over by the complete darkness of sleep.

The early morning comes with the unending heat of summer. I wake up, pulling dad's blanket off revealing sweat soaked jeans. Behind me is a small lake and it looks ever more inviting. I sit up, looking from the inside out for any possible danger. Clear. I open the back latch of my trunk immediately taking in the fresh, hot, air outside. I step out, undressing down to my underwear and walk to the water's edge. I look around once more before leaving my rifle close to the tide. The cool water kisses my toes and sparks life back into me. I step in with not a care in the world, allowing the small waves to caress my tired skin and wash the sweat, blood, and dirt from the tangles of my hair. I don't stray too far from land, keeping my rifle in eye's view. Just for a moment, I turn my back to it, splashing backwards into the lake. I feel myself smile underneath the water, looking up to the bright sun. I stand back up, turning back around I see my rifle and farther back my jeep. But there's a man. He hasn't seen me yet. I can't help my less then clothed self so I walk out of the lake, grabbing my rifle. His hands cup around his eyes as he leans against the window of my jeep.

"Hey!" I yell. Dad taught me if I was ever in danger, and alone, keep my voice calm. Sound stern. Never show fear.

The man doesn't budge. He reaches for the door's latch and pulls it, unsuccessful at opening it. "What do you think you're doing?" I yell again, angry. I stomp closer to the man who continues to ignore me.

I pull his shoulder roughly towards me; just as I come face to face with the man my eyes widen. A popping noise echoes in my ears and I feel a deep piercing in my belly. I look down and see the gun wound, blood trickles down my bare skin and onto the ground.

"Daddy..." I gasp, looking up to his face.

My car shakes and jolts me awake. My breathing is heavy and I look around my surroundings finding that I'm still in my jeep.

"Damn it." A man's voice is clear, just to my right. I look outside and see a tall man whose looking back at me. I shuffle quickly to the opposite side, holding my rifle in front me. He backs away a few steps holding his arms in the air.

"I'm sorry miss." He says.

"What do you want?" I ask roughly. I feel my eyes weighed down with a heavy frown.

"I saw your car thinking it was abandoned, I just came looking for some food for me n' my daughter." He starts.

"We don't have much to offer." I answer. He doesn't have to know I'm alone. He drops his hands.

"Miss, me and my girl haven't eaten in days, please." He begs.

I shake my head, "My dad will be back soon, you better get out of here, he doesn't take well to strangers." The man just looks at me, almost as if he's waiting for me to change my mind. I stare back with blank eyes, he nods before walking off. I sigh, looking the opposite way towards the lake. It was only a nightmare. I gaze over the dashboard of my car and my eye catches the sight of someone in my rear view mirror.

I snap my head back to the window of my trunk and see the same man. I have no time to react before the loud sounds of his rifle fires and shatters the lock, making it swing open. I scramble to climb over the front seat but he's faster than I am, grabbing my ankles and pulling me back. I scream as loud as my body will let out. I reach for my rifle but he snatches it away while pinning me down with his knee. I listen as he throws it out of the jeep. I try to reach for my knife but he turns me on my back, pinning my arms above my head. I scream, kicking my legs as hard as I can. He finds my knife, looks at me with a menacing smile before throwing it out.

"You won't be needing that." He snides.

My blood feels as if it's boiling and I take the chance of strength I have and knee him in the crotch. He yells, removing his grip from my hands, I take advantage of his weakness and knee him a second time, harder in his stomach. He grunts in pain, falling to the side and I jump away. Just as I reach the opening he reaches his arm around my waist and I scream bloody murder as he pulls me back. He throws me on my back and a deafening realization falls over me. He's not here for my armor or for food. He's here for me. I feel a cry stir in the deepest part of my stomach and it erupts out of my mouth. He presses all the weight he can into his hand and holds my arms above my head, using the other to rip my jeans off. No matter how violently I thrash, my strength doesn't match his. I look around for any weapon, any sort of hope that can get me out of this but he pushed everything out of my reach. I never stop thrashing beneath his hold, cringing at the sound of his zipper. I kick my legs and he yells out of frustration and releases my arms. He presses down hard on my hips making my movement impossible, leaning back to avoid my wailing arms. He averts his concentration to the last piece of clothing on my lower half, I breathe in hard and slam my head against his, he snaps his head up and my vision is fuzzy. He laughs. I lay my head back down succumbing to his strength. Just as the last of my fight leaves my body, he screams. I look up at his pained face and he falls to the side. I look behind him just as a walker takes a deeper bite into his leg. Out of the brush of the tall grass is a small herd of walkers coming our way. I scramble to my knees, crawling out of the trunk. I grab my knife and rid of the feasting walker. A strength comes over me and I grab the man's ankles and drag him out of my trunk. I hear the walkers come closer. He looks up at me, his face paled white, begging for my help. I grab my rifle, he reaches his hands out for me before I take one shot at his head. I loop my rifle around me and jump into the driver's seat. I start the car, making a hard turn and running over the arriving walkers, a few stragglers claw for my jeep as I leave them in the pillow of rising dust.

It's not long before I'm speeding out of the forest back onto the empty highway. But I don't stop. I keep my foot heavy on the gas pedal, heading east with no destination in mind. Tears cloud my vision. This area, what once was my town, my home, has betrayed me. I scream, hitting the steering wheel. Just as I open my eyes a walker comes into my vision and I hit him. I struggle to regain stature and I end up on the grassy side of the road. I pull my car into park and keep screaming. My face hurts and feels so stretched with strain, my head feeling as though it will explode with every deep cry that leaves my body. A group of walkers surround my window, I turn to them and scream. They answer back with hungry snarls. I don't know how long I cry until I'm left with labored breathing, much like a child calmed by his mother after a fit of sad tears. Alone is the hand that I've been dealt, but it's not one always welcomed.


	2. Chapter 2: Daddy

I never keep myself out in the open for long. Whether I wanted to or not it was time for me to move on. Move somewhere out of what I know. Cynthiana was well overrun at the beginning of this nightmare. But I managed to keep myself safe and hidden away in the general area. Dad showed me all the nooks and crannies of our hometown and the small towns around it. I loved spending time with dad. Our family was always close but once Hartley came she and mom just bonded easier, more closely. I was always daddy's little girl. When Hart was asleep I'd poke my head in to say goodnight to mom before walking down the stairs and into the back yard. I'd stop at the end of the cement to make sure the light in dad's shed was on before making my way over.

_Knock, knock_.

I waited to hear him invite me in, that old door would creak horribly as I opened it. But I was too amused by the old country tunes that dad played every night. He'd look past the glasses that sat on the tip of his nose to me and smile. We'd spend the rest of the early evening talking about any and everything. I dreaded the time when dad would put down whatever trinket he was working on, take his glasses off and tell me it was ready for bed. We'd walk arm in arm back into the house and say our good-nights.

By the time I came back from college the outbreak was just beginning. But what we knew then was never what we imagined turning into what it is now. People we knew for years- family, friends, and neighbors turned into these beasts. There was no longer any trace of who they used to be. Over the course of a month Cynthiana became a ghost town. People boarded up their windows and doors. No one ever left the security of their homes.

Not until seven o'clock came around in the evening. Once a week, Dad and a small group of men in the neighborhood would go out to retrieve supplies for their families. Then, herds of walkers never came out until really late every night. Mom usually occupied my sister with some sort of activity down in the living room. I would try to read a book, write in my journal, anything really to fight off the horrific images that would corrupt my mind. Hartley never minded what was happening. She was too young really. Mom and dad did their best to distract her away from what horror was becoming reality. Explaining to Hart in ways only a six year old could comprehend why she couldn't go to school anymore, or even just to play in the yard with the other neighbor kids.

_As scheduled, dad pulled up into the driveway at** 8:15** p.m.. The glow of his headlights allowed me to breathe again. We had to wait for the other men to take their things to their homes before we could open the door. I watched from my window as dad stepped out of the truck but jumping out after him was a dog. A golden retriever. Running towards him was my sister, mom followed her with a cautious hand but dad stopped her. I could hear the faint sounds of his laughter as he watched the two. Dad must have found the poor thing wandering. I smiled. _This was the first night I felt a sense of normalcy again. Our guards were down and we we could be free for a few minutes.

_I walked away from the window and made my way downstairs. Just as I made the last step mom walked in with the happiest smile I'd ever seen, carrying bags of food. I smiled back. Just as I looked to the opened door I saw my sister walking our new friend up the steps, but it wasn't dad following closely behind. Before I could react the walker bit into my sister's neck. Her terrorized screams shattered my ears. I watched in horror as the diseased thing took her down, Hart pushed her small hands against its face, crying. The dog ran onto the lawn barking up a mess. Mom ran from the kitchen, her worst fears right in front of her. I couldn't move. Dad ran from the truck, pulling his gun out and shooting the walker in its head. Mom walked to Hartley, pushed the walker away with heavy sobs, dropping to her knees._

I'd never actually seen a person turn before then. I never thought I'd ever see it_. My mom cried for what felt like an eternity, but it was only twelve minutes. I made my way to the door, drawn by the raspy breaths that were now coming from my baby sister. Mom cradled Hartley, crying onto her chest._

_"Kathy get out of the way." My dad's voice though broken, was stern. I watched in disbelief. The porch light gleamed against my sister's opened eyes. But they weren't the beautiful green ones, they were dead and gray. Her small hands began moving._

_"Kathy!" Dad yelled. She wouldn't move. She just cried. Hartley moved her head closer to mom, her jaw open, and just as she brought it close to mom's tear stained cheek dad pushed himself between mom and Hartley, ending it all with a bullet._

_Mom cried even harder. Dad grabbed the rest of the bags and the dog, shooing away the crowd that formed around our lawn. No one did anything to help. I bent down, wrapping my arms around mom's waist, helping her into the house. Dad walked in, slammed the door, bolting it, and went into the kitchen. I walked mom up to their bedroom and laid in bed with her. I'd never seen mom cry so much. I watched in despair. Not knowing what to do. It wasn't until long after midnight, through her tears, she reached for my cheek, stroking it._

_"Thank you honey." Her voice was just a whisper. I placed my hand on top of hers, staring into her tearful eyes until they finally closed for some sleep. Through the still silence of our home I could only hear the bellowing cries of my dad coming from downstairs._ I never cried for my sister. I couldn't.

After refueling my car and filling up extra gas containers I spent the day driving, continuing east. If it weren't for the signs along the roadway I'd have no idea where I was heading. I'm a small town girl, we never left Kentucky often. Unless it was the holiday season, the farthest we'd drive was into Georgia to visit my grandparents. All I knew of that place was city life. I wasn't sure of any safety there now. My grandparents died long before any of this happened. The last time I had with them was my high school graduation. I came up to a long bridge, driving down underneath to camp out for the night. I never liked to drive at night. I used what day light was left to scope the area and for now it was safe. I used what hardware tape I found at the last gas top to close my trunk back up. It wasn't security at its best but it would have to do. I knew deep down I'd have to give this jeep up. I couldn't risk driving around with a car held together by tape.  
I stayed under dad's blanket in the back of my jeep, rifle glued to my side. Dad stayed at the forefront of my mind. Like he always did every night. Along with Hart and mom. But dad lingered the longest. I'd close my eyes and give way to the blackness because his face was clearer there. His kind face. That charming smile that won mom over. His green eyes that matched mine and Hart's. His military styled hair. He never changed it after coming back from Iraq. Neither did dad himself. He never let us see it anyway. I know mom saw it more than anyone else. But they conquered everything that threatened their marriage or our family. They were pillars. He changed more the night he had to kill my sister. Mom never came out of her emotional comatose.

We were able to stay in our house for another month before we were overrun. Dad had supplies stowed away in the truck. He made sure I was buckled in the car with Hero, the golden retriever he brought home that night, before running into the house to get mom. Walkers were left and right. I watched as he carried mom, running to the truck, barely escaping the gruel fingers of those flesh eaters. I tried to drown out the noise of heads being crushed beneath our screeching tires.  
Whether it was planned or not, dad drove towards our grandparents. Though they were not there we came to know many of their neighbors. But as we drove through the city of Atlanta and into their old neighborhood we realized this disease was quickly taking over. Mom could hardly do anything. I was dad's only hope of protection next to him. He taught me how to shoot a gun. We parked the car, leaving mom and Hero secured inside, never straying off too far. Dad would set up obstacles for me to practice with. Helping me better my aim. Sometimes he would take me to areas where walkers were more prevalent given there was a good enough of a hiding spot to keep mom in the jeep. He started me off with three or four moving at a rapid pace to groups of ten and more. I was terrified. That's when he taught me to never let fear be an emotion. I had to get rid of that. It was useless and would make me useless. He never spoke to me in a demeaning way, but he used a rougher voice that I'd never heard before. He made me keep sharp with my new skills. Often forcing me into situations with no easy way out. I knew he was doing this so I could protect myself. But I was growing to hate him for it.

We found ourselves in an abandoned campsite of Atlanta. Mom was tucked away in the truck, dad made a fire, fed mom and watched her until she fell asleep.

_I stared hard into the fire. The blue and orange embers escaped its own hell and floated into the open air. Far, up and up into the night sky._

_"So serious." Dad chuckled, breaking me of my dazing off. I looked at him with a deep set frown. It'd been weeks since he broke a smile let alone a laugh. What was so different now.  
_  
_He sat across from me, never breaking his eyes from mine. "Okay so you're mad at me." He started. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.  
_  
_"You hardly talk to me anymore unless it's about this damn gun." I spoke angrily, kicking my rifle to the side. He ran his hand over his face the way he did when he was tired, unsure of how to settle a problem. "I hate this, this isn't me." I went on, uncaring of his feelings. Hell, if he even had any. "You aren't even you." "It's kind of like our huntin' trips..." "No dad, it's not!" I cut him off, yelling.  
_  
_"Quiet down young lady." He stood up, walking towards me and grabbed my chin like he always did when Hart or I spoke back to him. I pulled away, turning my back to him. I crossed my arms, leaning my head against my drawn knees, sniffling. Angry that this was all happening. Forced to turn into some hunting fanatic only I was fending for my own life.  
_  
_Dad sat next to me on the log, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. I shook him off, "I don't need you to make me feel better." Wiping away what tears fell.  
_  
_"Listen honey, none of us expected this to happen, we got no choice but to do what we're doin' now. Mom can't do much, I need you." His tone was the one I loved. So loving and soft. __"I need to know I've trained you hard and good in case somethin' happens to me, God forbid." His voice lowers towards the end.  
_  
_Those words made my heart shiver with fear. I can't do this without him. I kept my eyes in front of me. I didn't want to believe his words even though I knew they were true.  
_  
_"I love you sweetheart." He said, kissing me on the head. He left his seat, whistling for Hero to follow him back to the truck where they stayed up all night on watch._

I burrowed my face into mom's jacket, forcing away the cries that tortured me, desperate to escape. I lost dad three days later.


	3. Chapter 3: Prison

**Thank you for the reviews! In honor of a new episode tonight (what did ya'll think of last week's? I thought it was sad perfection), here's a new chapter for you. A few questions I've seen asked will be answered below. Enjoy!**

I spent two days under the bridge before my hungering stomach forced me to move on. I found another gas station, stopped inside to load up on any left over granola bars and water. My drive consists of usually the same scenery, open fields with forest in the back, sometimes it's just forest on all sides of me. I slow down as I see a small trail come off the side of the road. I stop, checking the area before parking my car. It's rare when I pass by people. Most of the time I come upon their remains and their cars loaded with things useful to me, in a very grave way it's like Christmas day. I drape my rifle around my shoulders and keep my knife ready in belt. I bring a small backpack with sustenance, rope to tie up whatever animal I can catch, and a small canister of water. I make mental note of the trail in order to head back out as I head further into the woods. It's early afternoon and the sun is shining high, but the shade of the trees makes my hunt bearable. Enjoyable almost. I stop in an open area, a group of about ten trees make a perfect circle around me, the wind blows softly into the hole and combs through my tangled hair. I take in large breaths of air, feeling for just a moment a sense of freeness. I hear small steps and open my eyes meeting them with a deer. He grazes about twenty feet ahead of me. I hold my rifle up, resting the base of it next to my shoulder, lowering my head to look through the aim. I relax my breathing and steady my arm. Soon my eyes are focused only on the target.

Voices. I look behind me to where they came from, seeing bodies of three walk around the trees, armed bodies about 40 feet away. I look back at my target. I wasn't alone in seeing them. The deer pokes his head up, staring to where the others walk before taking off. I throw my head back frustrated but I know it was no use to me anyway. I need to hide. Quick. I tiptoe, cursing silently as small twigs brake beneath my boots. I shield myself behind one of the larger trees but push against it too hard, a weakened branch comes crashing down alerting the people from afar.  
My breathing quickens as I hear a man's voice shush the others. I keep my rifle ready while my knife stays upright in my stronger hand. Three against one, but if I time it right they won't overpower me. I raise my arm hearing as they approach closer. From my left I hear the growls of a walker make its way towards them followed by the plunge of one's knife. I wait to come out of hiding until their footsteps continue in the opposite direction of where I am.

It's best for me to move on, to hunt in a different area. I grab my backpack and make my way out of the forest and to my car. Just as I come out of the forest I see the same three people snooping around my car. Before I can hide myself amongst the trees, someone yells my name.

"Addison!"  
Forgetting all means of protecting myself I look towards the person, it's my mother. The other two men look to my mom in a panic, the short one slaps his hand around her mouth, pulling her back while the other looks my way.  
_**RUN**_. Dad's voice is clear in my head. I turn back into the woods and run as hard as my feet will allow. I hear shouting from the man behind me and I know one of them will be after me. **_Focus Addison_**. Dad always told me to focus, hard, on my target. My feet press hard into the ground below me and spring back up, almost like I'm flying. All I can picture is my dad fighting off that walker and it makes me run faster. I can hear the other person behind me gaining speed. **_Focus on your target_**. Dad says again. Soon all I hear is the rapid sound of my breathing. Ahead of me I notice the ground goes into a small ditch. I quicken my pace, the man is almost at my heel when I drop to the ground. He stumbles over me and falls into it and I waste no time, picking myself back up and begin running left. I don't stop. The ditch was enough to get him off my tail but easy enough for him to climb out of. I just run. Keep running til' I reach my target. I search for dad's voice. Any sort of clue that I can stop. My chest aches, hurts for air. I keep running, turning my head behind me to check for any trace of the man. Nothing. Suddenly, I collide against something and everything goes black.

_I walk away slowly. Out of breath and doing all that I can to keep myself from crying. Dad's blood covers my hands, mixed with that of the walker. Hero wouldn't come. I try to drown out the sounds of his whimpers, laying his body close to dad's. When I finally reach the meadow where we made camp, I see mom ringing out clothes to dry. She never smiles anymore. And my appearance makes it even more impossible for her to do so. I avoid her eyes, tell her we need to leave. She doesn't ask. I start packing up. Mom, with a careful eye, does the same. I drive back onto the main road, mom rolls her window down, hoping the wind will drown out the sound of her cries. I didn't need to tell her. I couldn't save him. _

Something so familiar yet all at the same time unfamiliar rushes over my skin. It's cool. It feels wonderful. I groan, feeling a throbbing pain in my head, slowly peeling my eyes open. Sun casts in making it harder for my eyes to adjust. I lay there for a few minutes until I re-open my eyes, blinking away the cloudiness. I look around, finding myself laying in a bunk. Three concrete walls surround me while a white sheet covers the opening of what seems to be a cell. I'm in a prison. I slowly sit myself up, making the pounding in my head unbearable. I groan, leaning my back against the wall. I look ahead and see a fan blowing in my direction. Below it is a table filled with books, a bottle of water, and a protein bar. I hear footsteps approach and I frantically search for my rifle. I notice right away my energy is shot. A man who looks like a beat up Santa Claus appears from behind the sheet. He's only got one leg, supporting his weight with a crutch. His white hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a thick beard frames the bottom half of his face.  
He looks to me for a second before going to the table, handing me the bottle of water. I refuse.

"You're dehydrated, you need to drink it." He says, stretching his arm further for me to take it.

I keep my arms plastered at my side. His face reads disapproving, leaving the bottle at my side.  
He grabs the protein bar, a bucket filled with water, and the chair, sitting himself next to the bed. He drops the bar in my lap and asks me for the towel around my neck. I watch him soak the towel in water, wringing it out some before handing it back to me.

"Keep that on til' you sweat out." He says. It feels refreshing against my skin. He nods towards the water.  
"Waters hard to come around now, drink up."  
I crack the plastic top open, guzzle the water down.  
"Names Hershel." He says after a few moments. I nod.  
"Didn't anyone teach you manners girl?" His tone is low but flippant.  
"How did I get here?" I ignore him. He chuckles, leaning back into the chair.  
"You ran into one of ours out there, you passed out, came in white as a ghost. Dehydrated and exhausted."

I stay quiet.

"They said it looked like you'd been runnin' hard, not lookin' ahead of you." "Who you runnin' from, walkers?" He asked. I shake my head.

"Can't be, you were well equipped when they brought you; rifle, knife, supplies..." He drags on his sentence, waiting for my response. It stays quiet between the two of us, all of a sudden I hear a baby's shrill cry, I look to Hershel. Followed is a woman's voice, cooing to the baby. I hear several voices. I look passed the curtain but only see large windows and a staircase in my view.  
"I need to go." I say, pulling myself up from the bed. I don't make it far before Hershel grabs my wrist. I quickly pull it away, giving him a deep frown. "You need to rest." He says.  
"Just give me my stuff so I can leave. I don't need rest. I can rest in my," but I stop, hesitant to give him any more information, "where's my rifle?" Hershel stands up just as another man walks in, I step back. The other man is tall and lean with a scruffy face. His eyes look worried at me, his hair curly. I look down to his right hand and see my rifle. I reach for it but he pulls back.  
"That's mine." I say, trying my best to sound strong. I feel my body is still weak, my head still pounds and my vision in and out of blurriness. "You need rest." Hershel presses.

"Hershel can take care of you while you get better."  
I almost laugh, "Listen, I'm not bleeding, no bites or scratches, I have water, I'm _fine_." I argue. The man holding my rifle looks to Hershel and I roll my eyes as Hershel walks out. "I appreciate the help but I don't need a babysitter, I can take care of myself."  
"Seems you've been doin' that for some time." His thick accent reminds me of daddy and grandpa. I have to stop myself at the ease he almost puts me under. I don't know any of them and the longer I stay the farther away I am from finding mom again.  
"I'm Rick." He puts his hand out. I just look at him. He never shows a smile. He sits on the metal chair, gesturing for me to sit back down on the bed. He places my rifle to the farther side of where I am. I can't leave without it. The whole time I try and hear what dad would tell me. What do I do? Who can I trust? Why? Why are they so concerned about me? A stranger.

"We could hear you wheezin' from a mile away." He starts. I avoid his look. "Before we knew it you ran into my son, dropped like a fly."  
"I remember just fine what happened."  
"Who were you runnin' from then? Not walkers by the looks of your equipment here." He takes my knife from his pocket. I look at his eyes, angry, but as much as I don't want to admit it, they're kind. He's a father. Despite noting from the fact of him saying so, I can see it in his eyes. They're protective. And any adult I've ever come across looks at me and guesses I can't be a day older than sixteen. Correction, I'm nineteen.

I struggle to hear dad's voice. It's becoming less and less with each day that goes by. I sigh, sitting back down. Keeping a frown on my face to let him know I'm not weak. I can fight if I have to.

"So?" He leans forward, resting his arms at the base of his knees, coming closer to me. I look back at him. Dad always told me if I came across strangers to look them in the eyes. Whatever feeling, good or bad, that I get within the first five seconds is the one to trust. It was easier to do when I had dad behind me. Even mom. Knowing I had someone on my side, one that I could trust was enough for me to have confidence in myself. But now, up to this point, no matter how ready I was to fight I tried even harder at keeping myself hidden away. I'd rather come face to face with a stadium of walkers before any real human. I knew it from the moment I saw Hershel that I didn't have to be afraid of him. But I don't like people. People get hurt. They die. You're left alone.

"My jeep is somewhere on the main road, I couldn't have run too far off from it, if you could just get me back near there I'd be fine with that." I almost plead with him. I can't afford to give any more of my trust to them.

Rick drops his head, sighs.

"One night," he starts again, "just rest tonight, we can take you back tomorrow."  
"I can rest in my jeep." I fight back.

He presses his hand against the railing of the bunk and leans his face close to mine. I stand my ground, doing my best with a stern look. He can't challenge me like any other girl. "Listen up, you can fight all you want but realize this, we don't just take people in like this. We protect our own just as much you got to protect yourself." His voice is lined with irritation.  
His nose is inches from mine, I take a chance and snatch my rifle from his grip. I pull it close to my side and lay on the mattress, facing the wall. A few seconds later I hear him place something on the metal table before walking out. I stay there until the sunlight goes away. People, I don't know how many, but by the sounds of it there's quite a few different ones who walk through the cell block. Most likely occupying a good amount of the other rooms. I do my best to drown out their talking. Trying to keep myself out of their business. I don't need to be owing anyone anything. The same baby cries at times through out the day. I hear a few kids run about. But I mostly hear adults talking amongst each other. A few question who I am, how'd they find me. No one comes in though. They leave me be. I only hear a woman tell me dinners ready, she stands there a minute before realizing I'd rather keep to myself.

"Here's a plate, not much, but it'll do." She comes back. I keep my position the same as when Rick first left.  
"Honey, you've got to eat."  
"Carol." Rick stops her. I hear them walk away, her telling him that I need to eat something.

I just want mom. I want dad. I want all of this to be gone.

**Just to answer some questions I saw. _Is this a Rick/OC fic? _I haven't decided quite yet but it seems to be that's where this story is naturally progressing as Addison is still mourning deeply the loss of her father. And just for future reference in case anyone is wondering, I do not plan on any romantic relationships happening in this story. _How did Addison's father die?_ I hint very lightly on her father's death in this chapter but it will soon be explained. Also, I think I've finally pinpointed where on the timeline this story is forming as far as the actual show is concerned but once I have chapter 4 up I'll officially make note so you guys are aware. ****Thank you all again for reading, following/favorite, and reviewing. It means a lot! And again, I'm happy to answer any questions! **


	4. Chapter 4: Details

I tread lightly across the stone floor, making it the first time I leave my cell. All around me are people, sleeping soundly, aside from the few I heard Rick assign to night watch. I walk towards the large windows and look up to the second level, most of those cells are taken up too. I turn back around and see there's a full moon. It has to be nearing morning. Maybe five. I wonder how everyone sleeps soundly as if there isn't a war outside. Hungering things just waiting for one of us. Is this what it was like for dad in Iraq? Death surrounded him out there. And it surrounds me out here. No matter how much training dad gave me, this was far more than I could handle.  
Dad went hunting without me. I woke up after dawn, the sun was high. I made sure mom was taken care of before venturing into the woods to look for dad. It felt like forever before I heard Hero. He was whimpering. I ran with all my might but even my own feet betrayed me. Dad was fighting off a walker, but I could see it already got him. He was always keen with his senses, how did he miss this one? I wasn't even ten feet away when the walker took another bite.

"Can't sleep?" Rick's voice is close to my ear, I jump back. "Sorry." He laughs a little, the first time he smiles.  
I shrug. The strap to my rifle slips off of my shoulder and I catch it before it hits the floor. Rick just stares at me.  
"What?" I question, embarrassed.  
"You treat that like it's gold." He says.  
I nod confidently, "it's all I have." My simple answer is enough for him to hear. He looks up to the moon, it's glow casting a blue hue over his face. I look back at it.

"I need to walk the perimeter." Rick says. He walks into another room that houses a kitchen and their food supplies, the dark envelops him.

"Come on." I barely hear him say. I almost feel excited. As much as I hated to tell my dad, I loved hunting after a while. But I was too stubborn to ever tell him that.  
I walk through the dark, echoing hallways before reaching the exit, Rick waits for me by the door, holding it open with his foot. For the first stretch around the fence I follow behind him, watching his attention rove about. We walk the inner fence first before going through a chained fence, then we walk the outter rim. The two high fences create walls, protecting us from any walkers that roam the woods beyond. I don't even realize I'm matching Rick's slow stride, our steps in sync with one another. He starts telling me his story. How it all began for him. All the places they had to go to before ending up here. As crazy as it seemed, this prison has become their sanctuary. He mentions briefly someone called, "governor," but quickly goes onto the life he's tried to provide for this new family. Not just his kids, but everyone here. He's made mistakes; still makes em'.

By the time he's finished telling me what seems like everything, we're walking back in, I stop and wait while he chains up the fence. The sun starts peaking over the horizon. He walks ahead of me up the dirt path that leads into the prison but I stay put, staring at the pastel colors that paint the sky. I loved watching the sunrise on camping trips. I try to watch it every morning. It makes me feel like I'm back out by the lake where we'd take our camping trips. I'd watch the sun slowly rise, alone, but my family are sleeping in their tents. So I wasn't really alone.  
"I'm sorry I couldn't save you." My voice is broken. I don't realize Rick is standing next to me, hearing the words I try to keep hidden.  
Dad's face flashes before me and I come out of my daze, looking at Rick with embarrassment. He looks at me consolingly.

I try to avoid the group at all costs while they gather in the kitchen to eat. I can't owe them more than I already do. Another woman, younger, with brown wavy hair brings in a bowl of oatmeal while I gather my things. I refuse but thank her. She doesn't prod, leaving the bowl next to my untouched dinner. I sit on my bunk and wait for the group to dissipate after they have some meeting. Rick assigns various tasks to certain ones. Finally he comes in, I stand up, my backpack on, rifle and knife at my side.  
"I'm ready." I say.  
He starts to say something but I put my hand up. "Please, you've done enough, I'll be fine once I'm back at my jeep." A younger boy walks in, introduces himself as Carl before telling Rick they're ready to go. Rick nods and tells me they'll take me back. We head out to the courtyard of the prison and meet a woman with black dreads, she doesn't say much to me but a hello. Just as I'm getting into the back, Rick stops me and hands me a knife.  
"I've already got one."  
"Here." he cautiously takes my rifle and the woman throws him a roll of duct tape. Rick places the knife at the butt of my rifle and tightly wraps it with tape. It feels like a gift.  
"Thank you." I say.

The drive is quiet, not much talking is done between the three of them. I'm not sure if it's because I'm there but I try to make myself as invisible as possible. I wait for any questions as to where my jeep is but they seem to know the highway well. We slow down and park just off the road. I jump out of the car and walk slowly to my jeep. Or what's left of it. All the windows are shattered, bullet holes cover the body of it, the seats inside are torn up. All of my tires slashed to nothing. I look for blood, any signs that my mom could have been hurt but I see nothing.  
Dad's blanket. I run to the back, all of my ammo and food are gone. But all my eyes search for is the blanket. In my panic looking for it my hand skims the familiar fabric and all I feel is the sudden need to cry. I look to where my hand rests, pieces of it lay in a heap.  
Rick stands by his vehicle just watching me while the other two scale the near by area. I bite down on my lip, the ball in my throat feels like it's growing. I feel the warmth of blood trickle from the broken skin on my lips, the taste filling my mouth. I crawl into the back, press the piece of dad's blanket onto my cheek.  
I can't stop it. It's ugly. The cry that finally breaks free from my throat is almost inhumane but I can't stop.  
"Daddy." I cry. Just like mom did for Hart.

Rick comes in after me, telling me the people who did this might come back, we have to go. I listen, follow him back to the car and get in. The other two stay quiet. I try to keep silent on the drive but the longer I hold that piece, the last piece I now have of dad, the more I want to become swallowed in tears. It's the only thing that makes me feel alive anymore. I despise it but at the same time, I never want to stop. It keeps me close to my family in some way.

By the time we reach our destination, I only feel numb. Rick gets out with the other two but stays near the car while his son and the woman go farther, searching. For what, I don't know.  
"My dad." I croak. Rick stands near the passenger side mirror, keeping a watchful on the other two and our close surroundings. He waits a few seconds before turning to me. I keep my eyes in the field ahead where the others scout. An abandoned store lays destroyed in the middle of it.  
"He," I try to explain but I feel the same need to cry so I move on, "I haven't been alone this whole time this all started, I had my mom with me up until five months ago."  
Rick listens intently.  
"We got turned around in a group of them and I _**had**_ to leave." I finally look up at Rick, his stare is solemn.  
"I was coming out of the woods yesterday and she yelled my name, there were two men with her and they saw me so I ran, they have to be the ones that ransacked my jeep." I hold up the piece of dad's blanket and show it to Rick. "This was dad's."

"We gotta go." The woman says, Rick's son throws stuff into the back as a small herd makes their way out of the brush and towards us.

As we made our way back to the prison I kept the piece of blanket pressed on my lips, I could feel the woman watching me. I couldn't tell if she was judging me or felt pity for me. I really didn't care. My mind could only stay on my parents. What would dad have done if he were in my spot? Would he have run like I did? The coward I am. I bet my life he would've fought, even if it meant he lost his own life. Dad would risk his life to spare another.

"What's your name?" Her voice is kinder than I expected. Guarded but kind. I look over and she doesn't smile but she doesn't frown either. I can tell she tries to ignore my red, cried out eyes. I blink, wiping my eyes, stiffening my upper lip.  
"Addison." I put out my hand and she receives it, "Michonne." She says. I pull my hand away realizing the piece is still in my hold, she looks at it then back at me. I quickly draw it away and secure it inside a zippered pocket on one of my pant legs.

Once we get back to the prison and inside of the secured courtyard, people come out to help retrieve and stock the supplies. No one really allows me to carry anything, I assume from Hershel's orders. I want to argue but my aching body and woozy head stop me, telling me he's right. He comes out and tells me I should rest a full day before doing anything physical. I feel like a child when he tells me in front of everyone, feeling their eyes burn into my back as I follow him back inside.

"Was that necessary?" I complain to him, placing my rifle onto my bed. He gestures for me to sit, only smiling.  
"Anyone lookin' at you can see you're not well." He reasons. Again, I can't argue that. He tells me to open my mouth, telling me the swelling of my tongue has gone down meaning I'm slowly re-hydrating.  
"Keep drinking water." He reminds me before leaving.

I sigh looking around the small room for anything to occupy myself. I run my pointer finger across the small line of books on the shelf, turning my head sideways to read the titles. I stop in front of the small fan and allow it to hit my face just a little longer, closing my eyes, trying to put myself in a mental state that's not here. I try to imagine a place I'd never been.  
The beach. I remember my dorm mate in college came from California. She had pictures of times she'd spent at the beach. I remember she gave me the weirdest look when I asked her to explain what it was like. Not just the scenery. But what it sounded like. The sea breeze, crashing waves, and even the squawking seagulls. I told her she was crazy for choosing a school in a state that had no beaches. Over the course of a year we started to bond, funny enough, over completely opposite things. She said she would've traded the privileged life she lived for the family I had. As much as I daydreamed about the beach, I wouldn't have traded my family for the world. I felt bad for her.

"Hey." A soft voice takes me away from my wanderlust. I look to my left and see a blond girl, about my height, holding a baby in her arms. Her hair is mostly tangled and pulled into a messy ponytail, one piece of it braided. Her eyes are big and blue, her eyebrows creased into a small frown. She steps cautiously towards me.  
The sleeping baby fidgets when the girl puts her hand out to me, I accept it.  
"Addison."  
"Beth," she doesn't really smile, "this is Judith."  
"She yours?" I blurt out, biting my lip. Mom would have whooped me for that one. Beth laughs a little, the frown never really leaves her brow. She shakes her head but offers no explanation. I figure it's best for me not to know. The baby starts to stir and Beth bounces as she takes small steps around the cell, humming quietly.

I lean my knuckles against the metal table, cracking them, just watching her as she soothes Judith.  
"Are you stayin'?" She finally asks.  
I shake my head. "Just til' I get better." I say.  
She laughs again, quietly though so the baby won't wake. I frown. She notices and any evidence of a smile leaves her face.  
"One thing I've learned about our group is we never split up, no matter what." She says.

Before I can respond Rick walks in, telling Beth he needs a minute with me, caressing his baby's head before the pair leave. I notice his tired expression. He pulls up the chair and sits in front of me, I lean against the small table.  
"You said you were runnin' from two men, did you get a good look at them?" He asks. His hands are folded together and he leans against his legs, his stature is alert as if whatever I have to say can only be said once. He has to catch every word before I decide to take it back. He's beginning to read me well. My doubt. I immediately regret giving into my moment of weakness and revealing any of that to him. He notices it and sighs.

"Listen, I know to you I'm nothin' more than a stranger but you have to trust me." He says.  
I avoid his eyes because they're honest. I don't want to become attached.

"If you want to be with your mom, you've got to let us help you." He almost pleads with me. His words make me weak and I look back at his eyes. His eyes mirror my dad's on the night we last spoke by the fire. I was so mean to him. He looked so sad.

"I didn't get a good look, I just ran." I say. Rick nods, "anything, anything you can give me about their appearance."  
My vision goes blurry and I try to push passed the image of mom's face. She was shocked to see me, happy, terrified. I try to to remember the two men.  
A weird excitement rushes over me as I remember a small detail.

"An eye patch, one of em' had an eye patch."

**Note: I apologize for such a delay in posting chapters. Eventually I would like to post chapters consistently, maybe a chapter a week. Work has been busy but the story must go on! Chapter 5 is currently in the works, I'm hoping to write out 3 chapters for stock before posting chapter 5 so it may be two weeks max before there is an update. Thank you for your reviews and do know with every new chapter I post, your feedback you've given me in any form is very much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5: Family

Rick's face drains of any color. His pupils dilate. His reaction sends a wave of fear over me.

"Are you sure?" He stands up, towering over me. I can't help but become jittery. I stammer over my words and begin to doubt any recollection I had before. Sweat begins to layer my skin and I feel everything closing in.

"Are you sure?" He repeats. I want to lie and say no but despite that eye patch I could still see cruelty in his eyes. He wasn't cautious at the sight of a new person, he didn't care if they were strong or weak, he was out for blood.

I nod.

"What else, anything else you can tell me?" Rick speaks on his toes. I struggle verbalize the imagery that begins to flood my mind. The man with the eye patch becomes so clearly seen it's almost as if he's standing right in front of me. I blurt out anything that comes to my mind.

Rick tells me to stay in my cell, I want to follow him, ask him why does this man matter so much? Why does he seem so afraid?

"Who is this?" I'm almost yelling, feeling desperate to know who my mom has ended up with. Rick ignores me.

"My mother is with them!" I yell this time. He stops and makes me go back into my cell, threatening to lock me in if I try to follow him again.

I listen.

I sit on my bunk, shaken, scared of what my memory has just unleashed. Not just for me but for this group.

All I can do is wait in my cell, I cancel out the option of eaves dropping when Rick calls a few of them out into the courtyard, urgency is easily noted in his voice and no one wastes time in following him out.

Rick leaves my cell gate open giving me all the freedom to go against his orders but I can hear dad telling me," **don't you even think about it Addison**," whenever I'd try to fight his authority. In my momentous tantrum Maggie stays glued to the last step of the staircase. I can feel her passing stares and though her curiosity is surely pinching at her side I only wish to know as much as she does. She has to know who this man is.

"Maybe you should try and relax, take a shower, we have runnin' water." She finally breaks the stiff silence around us. Her voice is almost an echo to my ears, my thoughts too wrapped up on what could potentially unravel from what I've revealed.

"Addison?" She pegs.

"Are you not at all worried?" I break. She stares back at me with a stoic look.

"There's no point in it if you've got nothin' to do about it." She says. I realize she has a point. If I had a choice in this Rick would have called me out with the rest of them, but he didn't. I'm left to wonder in this concrete room.

I sigh, immediately feeling embarrassed for barking at her. "Sorry."

She shrugs and I realize in her hand is a towel and small bucket, her arm stretches out to hand it to me. "You can't deny warm water." She says. I curl my lips into any smile I can force out and follow her to the east side of the prison. One long basin divided into smaller sinks takes up most of the room and along the back are showers. I'd never imagined myself wishing to shower in a prison when I realize my only option is pumping barely warm water into a plastic bucket for my shower.

"I may have exaggerated a little but I figure it's better than anythin' you've had recently." I thank her and she draws the curtain behind her.

It takes me some time before I feel comfortable enough to strip down to nothing, jumping at every creaking sound or footstep made. I pump the lever seven times before a stream of water comes out of the makeshift shower head, giving me a good 30 seconds to wet my body. The water isn't perfect but it feels fresh. When the water stops I take the small towel and scrub off. Dirt, sweat, blood, and everything under the sun runs off my skin and hair. I think back to when I'd help my mom bathe Hart, she was barely a toddler then. Her skin was so soft and pristine.

I take the bigger towel to dry off and just as I'm about to put my old clothes back on, Maggie comes back, giving me a minute to cover up before walking in with a fresh set of clothing and a comb.

I walk back to my cell, Rick or any of those he called are not back yet and I try to ignore it, remembering what Maggie said. Even though my mom is my business I've got none otherwise. I have to be patient.

Minutes turn into a few hours before I decide it's okay for me to venture outside of the building, everyone is where they're supposed to be. Rick is nowhere in sights along with Michonne and a few others. The sun is high making it the hottest part of the day. I stop and watch as the hot air rises above the asphalt; when I was a kid I used to think that was water only to be disappointed as I got closer. I walk by the tower closest to the courtyard and look up to see if anyone is in there. The sun glare goes straight into my path of vision making the tower look like a shadow before me.

"Wanna come up?" I hear Maggie ask. I look around to see if she's calling to anyone else before I climb up. I grab her hand so she can hoist me up.  
The inside is bigger than I expected and if I look passed the very obvious fact that their safety grounds is a prison, it's easy to become lost in the vastness of the forest. Mystery lingers in the forest but so much so it's intriguing. Behind our house was a forest, when dad was deployed the summer before my senior year of high school I'd spend a lot of the early mornings looking out my window and towards the heavy greenery. Deer would venture in and out, grazing on dad's precious grass. He made sure mom had his checklist of how to maintain it so he could come home to it the same way he left it. Perfect. Besides Hart and the stray cat that would settle on our front porch, I don't think anyone got much sleep while dad was gone. It was the longest three months. Dad always called me a dreamer because more often than not I was in a daze. My parents never minded it unless the current circumstance was important. I was always wondering about something though. It never became a nuisance until those three months. My wonderment always lead to the worst thoughts of dad in Iraq. Those three months would have been a long two years but the nightmares that haunted our dreams that we'd hoped never would be came to be. Only, dad lived.

"Does my dad know you're out here?" She asks.  
Maggie takes me away from my constant thoughts about dad, I look over at her with a look of sarcasm and she laughs. For the first time while being with this group I feel a small sense of attachment. It scares me.

Maggie starts more on her dad but I hear the sound of a car driving over the dirt road. I look towards the gate and see it driving up only able to assume it's Rick and the others. I start heading for the floor door but Maggie rests her hand on my shoulder.

She gives me a determined look and I already know what she's going to say, but I don't stop her. I need to hear it. Two, three, and probably four times.

"Don't mind it if it doesn't concern you." She says. I look back down and see Rick get out of the car along with Michonne. Maggie comes at my side and looks down at them with me.

"Have you met everybody yet?" She asks, I shake my head.

The man with the crossbow is Daryl. She points out who has been with whom and for how long; Michonne has only been with them for a few days longer before I was brought here.

"What about Judith's mother?" I try to ask in the most gentle way possible.

Maggie raises her eyebrows, looking at Rick directly.

"Lori; she died during Judith's birth, Rick is still reelin' from it." Maggie gives me a simple explanation.

"What about your mom?" I blurt out. I feel myself turn red, almost able to feel a stern stare from my dad. I look to her apologetically.

"She died back at the farm along with the rest of our family," is all she says. "What about yours?" She asks. I turn back, walking aimlessly around the room.

"What do you want to know?" I ask, keeping my eyes focused on my feet, one in front of the other as I try to keep my walk in a straight line. She stays quiet as I make a few more steps, stopping to look up at her. Her attention looks zoned as she watches my feet just as I was.

"What's your story?" Her question is forward, at least for me. I can see she knows it too.

We stare at each other, waiting to hear what I'll say.

I swallow the lump in my throat and open my mouth, "Maggie!" Glenn's, her boyfriend, voice comes out. We both look down just as he's coming up. He tells me Rick wants to see me.

"Later." Maggie says with a small smile. I can only wonder if it wasn't meant for me to tell my story. I've never had anyone to tell it to.

I walk through the same, dark hallways always keeping my hand ready to pull my pocket knife. It's only then that I realize it's the first time I've gone anywhere, no matter how close or far, without my rifle. I walk into the kitchen area finding Rick, Hershel, and Daryl waiting for me. Daryl stands off to the side, his arms crossed, leaning against one of the tables. Hershel stands with his crutch, those eyes always evaluating something or someone. And Rick, his hand resting at the handle of his gun which sits in a belt around his waist; he's constantly pacing.

"Do you want to stay?" Rick addresses me abruptly. I don't expect a warm welcome from people anymore, but this is far from the person I met just two days ago. He stares down at me like a hawk zoning in on his prey.

"Rick." Hershel says simply. Rick shifts at the sound of Hershel's voice making him step back from me. Inside I was screaming, telling him no and that I wanted to be on my own; it was what I wanted the first moment I woke up in this place. Now I feel myself doubting any decision I've made that's lead me here. Up until this very moment I've had dad's intuition to somehow follow. Now, I've got nothing.

"We need to know more about you Addison." Hershel starts in. I hear footsteps coming through the hallway, a few seconds later Glenn walks in standing next to Hershel.

I feel my barriers crumble, everything inside me pushes forth with a desire to say everything.

"Fine." I say. Rick steps off of me and looks at Hershel then to Daryl. They share quick glances before looking back at me.

"But I need a promise that you'll tell me who this man is, my mother is with him, I need to know what I can do to get her back." Hershel looks at Glenn, making the worry that I tried so hard to keep away seep back in.

Rick, again, looks back at Hershel and Glenn who give him a nod then to Daryl who does the same before looking back at me.

"Fine." Rick says.

Everything comes out like butter. Mom used to say that whenever something was troubling us, we tend to hold it in until the right person asks; it comes out like butter. Every hurt, frustration, and fear is finally freed.

I become so lost in reliving the past eleven months I forget I'm saying it all to three strangers. I leave dad's death in the hand's of the walker, the intruder is non-existent as far they are concerned. I try to make my story certain and not as if I'm lamenting. Trying to keep focused that the end goal is for me to get mom back.

Maybe it's the presence of a new person, me, that causes the constant quiet that seems to settle in this group. Or maybe this man is so much of a monster they don't know how to introduce him to me. I thought up until this point I saw the most horrific things I could see. It feels like I'm wrong.

"Your turn." I finally say. I need distraction. Distraction from the feeling that sits deep inside of me, waiting to bark out of my mouth, to show the weaknesses that I've fought so hard to fight off for these past months. Long, grueling, exhausting months.

"She drew him back." Glenn says. He rubs his hand over his face, frustrated. Hershel rests a comforting hand on his shoulder and Rick looks on before facing me again.

"We should have killed him when we had the chance." Glenn says with deep-set anger. Rick snaps back at him, telling Hershel to get him out. Rick sits himself next to me. I feel a grave expression fall over my face, the same look I held when the officers came to our front door. Ready to hear them tell us dad died a hero.

"The governor." Rick says. "He's attacked our prison before."

I close my eyes and put my hand up, shaking my head.

"I don't want details;" the truth is I do, "what needs to happen now?" Rick doesn't ask me if I'm sure, only complying with my request.

"You're too weak." Hershel comes back in. I ignore him, "I _need_ to help."

Rick drops his head, torn between Hershel's advice and my plea. I feel my opportunity to save mom slipping from my hands the longer Rick wonders if I'm strong enough.

"I couldn't save my dad." It comes out like butter. I would let every secret be known before this one. My choices are becoming slim and I realize if I want to get anywhere with this group I have to say my most heartfelt plea to get them to let me in. This whole time I thought I was fighting to protect me from them, to protect mom. Only, to save mom with their help, they needed to trust _**me**_. They needed to know that once mom was back in my hands I wouldn't turn on them.

Stillness. I can almost hear Rick's heart rate slow. Daryl's fixed stare turns to Hershel; I wait for Hershel to argue my going out but he says nothing. The heavy lump, once again, settles in my throat and I have to force it down. The beckoning of tears sit in the corner of my eyes.

"_I_ had to kill him." My voice cracks. "My dad survived an attack in Iraq," I wipe my running nose, "but not this one." The laugh that escapes my lips is anything but amusing. It's one that reminds me of those who are close to an emotional breakdown. If I had nothing or no one to live for, that's where I'd be. But I'm not.

"I have to save her."

**Author's Note: I apologize for my long delay in posting chapters. It's quite a task and I don't want to post anything that won't produce interest from you all! My sincerest apologies. I'm working on a few chapters right now so my goal is to get better at posting chapters in a timely fashion soon. Please enjoy!**


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